


When Your Heart Beats So Close To Mine (I Feel Like It’s All Gonna Be Alright)

by mywarisalreadywon



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 2016, Alpha Derek, Curses, Eternal Sterek, Getting Together, Hurt!Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Merry Christmas, Secret Santa, Witches, lots of fluff, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 17:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8854291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywarisalreadywon/pseuds/mywarisalreadywon
Summary: Stiles’ mouth gets him in trouble, a witch secretly loves happy endings, and no one is dead because Derek is a good alpha and he deserves better than the show could give him. Merry Christmas Y'all!





	

When Stiles was little, he’d been prone to nightmares. His mind would get carried away and he’d be too scared of whatever was lurking in the dark to go back to sleep. He’d run to his mom, because she could chase away the bad dreams and the monsters and make everything better again. He’d felt safe in her arms, with her whispered words of comfort wrapped around him.  After she died, he stopped going to anyone, not wanting to cause more trouble for his dad because he was going through enough as it was. He got used to curling up on a corner of the bed and reading something, anything, until he either fell back asleep or had to get up for school.

When he was thirteen he’d had possibly the worst nightmare he’d ever experienced and he couldn’t help going downstairs. His dad, working on a case late that night, had looked up and found his son standing there, silently shaking as tears dripped down his face. They’d curled up on the couch together, his dad whispering soft words just like his mom used to.

But then Scott got bit. And he couldn’t tell his dad about the new nightmares. He’d resorted back to dealing with them on his own, except instead of reading books about history or science, he’d started reading about werewolves and harpies and selkies and anything else that might be real. And his nightmares got worse, but he got better at hiding them. They were always worst after an attack of some kind though.

 Case in point, he knew they were going to be bad tonight. Stiles was currently running for his life from a witch who seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once. She was shooting fire at them alongside glowing little spells that could do potentially anything to him – so really he was just trying to avoid everything she was doing. Armed with only his baseball bat, he was half convinced the roots and vegetation would be his killer because she seemed to be aiming more for the wolves.

As soon as he thought about that, he fell over a thicket of brambles. Because what is his life.

The only thing that saved him from pulling thorns out of his skin all night was a clawed hand grasping the back of his shirt and heaving him upright again. Stiles would have yelled at Derek for stopping to catch him when the witch could easily pop up now that they’ve stopped, but the witch showed up and proved his point before he’d managed to say it.

“Well now, what do we have here?” she laughed. Derek stepped in front of him, snarling at her. Stiles would have taken offense, but he knew that the alpha was just following those pesky little instincts that told him to protect his pack. And damn if remembering that didn’t make him feel warm and fuzzy because it meant he was pack. (He knew that, but it was nice to remember it)

“Back off,” Derek growled. Stiles watched as she reached into her pocket.

“I’m just trying to help,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“By killing people?” Stiles demanded, ignoring the look Derek shot at him over his shoulder.

“I didn’t kill them. They asked for a spell, I gave it to them, they screwed it up afterwards. Not my fault,” she said, shrugging. Stiles was reluctant to admit that maybe she was right if that was how it happened.

“You two though,” she hummed, rubbing her hands together, “could definitely use my help.”

“Why would we need your help?” Derek growled what might have been a ‘shut up, Stiles’, but he was too busy watching as she threw a blue ball of light at them. They were both knocked down with the impact, Derek falling on top of Stiles and knocking the air out of his lungs. When they looked up, she was gone, leaving behind just her scent as proof she had even been there at all.

“So, any idea what that was?” Stiles asked, “because we aren’t dead, and I feel fine.” Derek growled, rolling his eyes.

“How should I know what it was?” he huffed, getting up and picking Stiles up with him. Stiles brushed himself off, only refraining from wincing at the cuts and scrapes littering his body because he was used to it by now.

“She’s long gone,” Derek sighed. “We might as well go home. Call me if you feel weird.” And then he was gone, leaving Stiles to scuff his sneaker against the grass irritably. The ball had hit Derek too, so Stiles couldn’t help but wonder who he was going to call if he felt weird.

*

The house was empty when he finally got home, which suited him just fine. His dad didn’t like seeing him hurt, and he didn’t like his dad seeing him hurt. Being alone gave him privacy he wouldn’t otherwise have. Normally, he’d just dick around on the internet until he passed out, but he was tired now and figured that even if he was going to have nightmares he should probably at least attempt sleep.

He scrubbed the dirt off his skin and crawled into bed, absently noting a weird feeling in his hand just before he fell asleep.

*

As predicted, sleep didn’t stick around for long. He woke up screaming, his fingers twisting into the sheets as panic locked down on his mind. Before he could have a chance to catch up to the real world – _his room, safe, no blood, no death, safe_ – he felt arms wrapping around him and holding him tight. As he slowly came back to himself, leaving the dream behind, he realized that the arms wrapped around him, the heartbeat next to his ear, the chest he was leaning against, wasn’t his dad. His dad, who smelled like leather and gun oil and burnt coffee, was at work. The man holding him smelled like wind and earth and Old Spice (the older stuff, not the stuff that was almost identical to Axe). Derek. He would have protested – how did Derek even know he was having a nightmare anyway? – but Derek was warm and his heartbeat was soft and steady and reassuring.

“Are you okay now?” Derek’s voice was deeper, like he’d just woken up and hadn’t had a chance to put away his sleepy voice.

“I’m fine,” he replied, the answer automatic. Derek snorted, clearly rolling his eyes even when Stiles couldn’t see him.

“Aside from the fact that you still think you can lie to me –”

“Aside from the fact that you still think you can intimidate me,” Stiles echoed, smiling softly against the Henley .

“If you keep interrupting me, I’ll never be able to tell you what the spell did.”

“What?”

“There we go,” Derek chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I think it connected us. I can feel your heartbeat against my palm like I would if I had my hand on your chest. You can probably feel it too.” Stiles looked down at his hand, his heart skipping a beat as he realized Derek was right.

“So you knew I was having a nightmare because you could feel it,” he said, looking up at him.

“I knew something was wrong,” he corrected, “and now we’re going to go back to sleep and deal with this in the morning.”

“I’m just glad it’s this and not us being fused at the hip,” he said, shifting a little as Derek lay down. He tucked himself back into his chest, telling himself that it was just because Derek was warm that he was doing this.

His last thought before falling asleep was that he can’t even lie to himself.

*

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly according to most of the pack, they adapt to it easily. Derek knows when Stiles is having bad nights or is getting upset, and Stiles knows when Derek is having bad nights or is pushing himself too hard in training. What was surprising was how close they got. Physically. The other wolves got used to coming over to the loft and finding the two of them draped over each other on the couch or throwing flour at each other while they cooked. When Scott asked Stiles about it, he blushed and explained that the spell wasn’t creating feelings, it was just giving him an excuse to be closer to Derek. It was like they thought everyone was blind and couldn’t see how they looked at each other even before the witch.

But it started out small, so small that they hardly realized they were doing it. Like texts and hanging out. Then it moved on, to sleeping over some nights and curling up on the couch together. By the time Christmas hit, they were practically dating. Really, they were as close to dating as it’s possible to be without both people actually knowing that they’re really doing everything couples do. It was a frequent occurrence when the pack found them snuggling together watching a movie or reading or while Derek helped Stiles stay focused when he did homework. Honestly, it became weird to see them not together and neither of them realized it.

But like all things, it came to a head when everyone least expected it to.

*

Stiles, since sophomore year at least, was constantly on high alert when he was alone. With the wolves, especially Derek, he could count on them to notice danger before him and let them be alert most of the time. But when he was by himself, he didn’t let his guard down. And for good reason. Here he was, strung up by his wrists and wishing he’d taken Derek up on his offer to go to the grocery store with him. The hunters who’d caught him didn’t seem to care that it was just a week before Christmas, heartless bastards. But they were pretty dumb, demanding to know where the wolves were as if it was some big secret. Really.

“Where are they?” the one with the scar asked, ending his sentence with a punch to his gut. Stiles would have spat out a retort about how he couldn’t answer with the air knocked out of his lungs, but he couldn’t say anything because the air was knocked out of his lungs. He could feel Derek’s heartbeat against his palm though, and clenched his fist to let it ground him. He felt it speed up and knew, without having to even think about it, that he was running, he was going to find him. He held onto it as the blows kept coming, words fading into the background as he dropped out of consciousness.

*

Derek wasn’t sure what told him Stiles was in danger (that was a lie, of course he knew what it was) but he knew he had to do something. He wasn’t even sure how he found him (another lie. It was the instinct buried deep in the very fiber of his being that told him to protect his mate), but the moment that he found him, strung up with hunters laughing at his injuries and mocking how his pack couldn’t protect him, he snapped with a roar. As soon as they were dead, he was pulling Stiles down and carrying him to the hospital. He knew he hated it there, but this was beyond just a quick fix with a first aid kit.

*

Stiles woke up to his whole body aching and an annoying beeping beside his head. He wanted to swat at whatever was making the noise, but something was holding his hand down. He forced his eyes open, wondering how long he’d been asleep for them to feel this heavy. He blinked slowly up at the ceiling a few times before he realized where he was and why he felt so fuzzy. He looked over to see what was holding his hand down and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Derek. The alpha was sleeping in one of those awful, uncomfortable chairs and was holding his hand. Seeing that made him realize he couldn’t feel his heartbeat against his palm anymore. Before he could think anything else about it, two beautiful hazel eyes were blinking open and briefly flashing red before settling back into their normal color.

“Morning,” Derek hummed, sitting up a little and rolling his shoulders. Stiles hummed an agreement, his throat feeling too thick to answer.

“Next time, I’m coming with you,” Derek said, inky black veins crawling up his arm as he took away Stiles’ pain.

“Don’t need a babysitter,” Stiles rasped, leaning into Derek’s hand when he ran his fingers through his hair. Derek snorted and Stiles didn’t have to look at him to know that stupid little smile was on his face, the one that was so fond it hurt some days. He couldn’t remember shutting his eyes, but he was tired and he wasn’t in pain anymore, so he couldn’t be bothered to stay awake.

“Well how about a boyfriend?” Derek jumped; Stiles could feel it in the flinch of his hands. He forced his eyes open and saw his dad standing in the doorway. He looked tired but relieved. Stiles wondered again how long he’d been asleep. But he pushed that aside to weakly protest his dad’s statement.

“Doc said you can leave tomorrow if he thinks you’re healing well,” he added, seemingly oblivious to both boys’ embarrassment.

“But you’ll still need to take it easy for a while,” Derek said, giving him a pointed look. Stiles pouted, barely noticing his dad leaving with a smug grin.

“So,” he hummed, sucking on a piece of ice Derek offered to soothe his throat, “about that thing he said…” Derek blushed and looked at their hands. “I mean, we’ve probably already skipped the awkwardness of first dates with all those movie nights,” he added, watching the tips of Derek’s ears turn redder and redder. He didn’t need to feel Derek’s heartbeat to know it was probably pounding away in his chest faster than it normally did.

“So nothing is going to change then?” Derek snarked.

“No, stupid, there are going to be changes. Like you’re going to hold my hand all the time and you’re going to kiss me and we’re going to be even happier than before,” Stiles laughed, squeezing his hand.

“Really?” Derek said, smirking and leaning forward.

“And if you promise to wait on me hand and foot then I’ll be good and take it easy for a while,” he said, grinning. Derek rolled his eyes, leaning forward and pressing a soft little kiss to his jaw, one of the few places where he wasn’t bruised.

“I think you’ll behave either way if I bribe you with food and kisses,” he teased.

“I think you might be right about that,” he laughed.

“Merry Christmas.”

“I think you’re a couple days early.”

“Well I think you’re an idiot. But you’re my idiot.”

“And you’re my Sourwolf.”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

“Forever.”

 


End file.
